


When it Echoes

by PidgeonsonSynthesizers



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (2020), Sonic the Hedgehog (Archie Comic), Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Origin Story, burning/electrocution, movie scourge au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27143504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PidgeonsonSynthesizers/pseuds/PidgeonsonSynthesizers
Summary: What good is a prince when all he does is bad?Scourge wishes he knew the answer. He's tired of feeling like nothing but a forgotten, rotten relic. He is his own person, and nothing's going to tie him down or trap him anymore.So why does he stay in a place that he tries to convince himself means nothing to him? Why is he still here?Perhaps he isn't as empty as he thought.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	1. Supernova

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy. Gonna try to make sure I stick w this one till the end.
> 
> Big thanks to Mora for helping me with the title of this fic!
> 
> And a fair warning- this first chapter is gruesome. If you want to read but can't handle gore or depictions of death, I would skip the text that starts at "His gaze and breathing hitched and halted once more" and ends at "A sudden shout from a distant corridor"
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the beginning of this wild ride.

How does a prince become an orphan?

What a silly question. 

It’s simple, you see. You just have to kill the king. The queen was already long gone, anyway.

It was not Sonic’s intention for his father to fall suit. At least not _consciously_. 

His father was fascinated by him. So deeply invested in his son- perhaps for all of the wrong reasons, but he made sure he was well cared for.

There is, however, a difference between well cared for and loved.

Sonic was an infinite source of power, born from his own blood. Jules never did say how mother died and constantly shifted his eyes away with any mention of her. Told Sonic that everything he did was for the good of his country, to uphold the great peace.

Sonic tried to keep that in mind when he was hooked up to invasive machines and prodded like he was an object instead of a child. He tried so very hard to be a good son. Nod when asked to do something. Comply no matter the order. Don’t let out a sound even if he hated needles and tubes and wires.

Be a good little boy and let daddy take you to banquets and Royal events to show his wonderful son to the masses and wonder just why he’s never so warm or welcoming behind closed doors. Be a good little boy and try not to question why everyone else you’ve ever met has a smile that never quite reaches their eyes, teeth bared in a facsimile of happiness while their tired, angry eyes bore holes into your own and your father’s head. Be a good little boy and act properly, sit up straight, learn vocabulary and manners, and more than any other toddler ever should.

Sonic was very smart for his age.

He knew there was something different about him. The powers he had weren’t normal. In fact, sometimes he felt that his powers were all people saw when they looked at him.

All that his father saw when he looked at him. 

At least, before the incident.

It happened on a beautiful twilight in the middle of the warm season.

Sonic was so tired, despite his young age. They wanted to take more and more each day. More than he wanted to give- or at least, more than he could feel okay giving. He only gave his energy for the sake of his father, not because he had wanted to.

If Father smiled and was happy with his performance, it used to be enough. It wasn’t, anymore. They had noticed him beginning to waste away. His breathing growing more labored, his ribs becoming more visible despite him eating well.

That night, they had brought a surprise. 

“We have something special planned tonight, son,” Jules said, placing a gauntlet-covered hand on Sonic’s shoulder. 

“Something we retrieved just for you.”

Sonic’s eyes sparkled just a bit underneath the gloom, the shadows under his eyes- young, far too young to appear so drained- lightening just a bit as he glanced up at father with a glimmer of hope.

The servants used for heavy labor wheeled in a large cart full of something covered entirely in a rich red velvet cloth, enough that he couldn’t guess just what it was, and the only information that rang in his mind was that it was _huge._

What could it be? A gift? For him? But what gifts were that large? He never had seen such a large gift before, even as a prince. 

The grunts of the servants were still lingering in the air as they pushed the thing on the wheeled cart, heavy enough to make the wheels screech with the weight. Their sallow cheeks and downturned eyes were worse than Sonic had ever seen them before, red dreads hanging limply from lowered foreheads like the tentacles of some long-dead creature. 

Instead of the cloaked anger that only Sonic seemed to sense, the only thing that filled the air was a cloying sense of defeat that Sonic couldn’t understand. Shouldn't a gift be a good thing? 

It finally came to a stop, punctuated only by a fierce glare from one of the echidnas directly at his father’s face. The others quickly and quietly pulled his head down before Jules could see. Glaring at the king was dangerous. 

With a flourish and a massive grin, a lynx servant pulled the cloth covering the surprise back with an almost ethereal flair, her movements graceful as a dancer as she revealed the biggest, greenest gem that Sonic had ever laid his eyes on. 

And then, he felt the power. 

Something in that gem hummed in sync with his energy, almost welcoming but tinged with melancholy.

As beautiful as it was and as much as he did appreciate it, after he felt its energizing effects even from across the room Sonic realized that while this may have been a surprise for him, it really was a gift for Father instead.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Sonic?” Jules asked with his smooth, gentle voice. His tone was admiring and awestruck but tainted with the greed that Sonic became all too familiar with.

He didn’t want to know what they were planning with it this time. He didn’t want to know how they’d use him. He didn’t want to know if it would hurt.

But, as per usual- there wasn’t a choice.

“Yes, Father,” Sonic quietly responded, doing his best not to shake or fidget despite every cell of his feeling as if it was on fire with the desire to run. To get away.

His shallow breaths became even smaller as his body grew rigid, everything boiling just underneath a surface expression as smooth as an undisturbed pond.

They directed him to another machine. He didn’t want to think he briefly had hope that maybe this was a change, that maybe he was going to go a night without tests. That maybe Father really did want to give him something nice without expecting something in return.

Like a prisoner sent to death row, the child’s slow footsteps echoed as he walked towards the glass coffin he had become all too familiar with.

He sat on the chair provided in the center of the tube that would collect his energy, the cushions creaking as his heart continued to pound against his ribs like a caged animal desperate to escape its confines. Eyes glazed over as wires were snaked around his arms and legs and a muzzle was placed over his mouth, soft steps clanking against metal floors as the scientists worked around him. 

The wires trailed around the gigantic green gem- he thinks it’s called an emerald?- and had fed back into the tube that he sat patiently inside. It pulsed with a faint glow, the warmth of its light welcoming him, the warm caress of the unknown yet familiar energy soothing his aching heart and hungry blood in a way he never had felt before.

For just a moment, he could close his eyes and pretend that everything was okay.

He heard the click of the door to his glass cage as he forced his eyelids closed as much as possible, his breaths finally beginning to even out.

The warmth was there. There’s a warmth that cares for him. That felt so much better than anything before. There’s a warmth that enveloped him but slowly increased in intensity. There’s a warmth that-

That-

And as if struck by lightning, he _burned._

White-hot agony had encircled every part of his being, the energy, his energy, the gem’s energy, all of it coursing through his veins and it burned, it burned, _it burned-_

Electrified lungs heaved, and Sonic _screamed._

  
  
  
  


The glass around him shattered, a blinding, glistening light show erupting from the capsule like an extravagant, deadly firework, the metal tubes and wires around him melting as he glowed and screamed and cried, his body no more than a silhouette as the room became so very green, the emerald shining in tandem.

His muzzle, his restraints, his containment, everything just melted away. He wished it could feel like a good thing, wished he didn’t feel like his organs were filled with molten slag, wished against all of what he previously wanted that he could just go back to the before. All he could do was scream, and scream, and howl in agony as he watched the world around him melt, his form a blinding white as tendrils of verdant chaos burst from him in a flurry of hellfire complemented by the jagged arcs of wildly convulsing electricity.

The wails of a child and the ringing of the Master Emerald created a horrible, discordant melody that would linger in those halls for years, the lab never to be touched out of fear of the residual chaos that was left behind. The indistinguishable sounds came to a crescendo of a keening whine akin to that of an overloaded circuit before a sudden silence had finally set upon the place, Sonic heaving for air as the energy barreled right back into him at once, everything still for just

One

Moment.

Sonic’s tears, previously unable to be seen from the sheer heat of his own body evaporating them as they left, finally dribbled down sullen cheeks before dropping off-

And rising _upwards._

Gravity had loosened its hold for that one split second as everything began to float before with one last echoing ring, the Master Emerald had _shattered._

And alongside it, Sonic himself was broken as well.

The scientists and servants involved had either run or were caught in the epicenter of what would be known as the beginning of the end of the Great Peace. The only audible sound, ricocheting and echoing off of cold tile floors and glass and metal were the pained cries of a child who lay crumpled in the middle of a circle of destruction, framed by broken glass and machinery like some sort of twisted summoning circle.

Sonic whimpered, covered in twisting red lines and trying to soak in any cool air that came from the night through broken windows, catching his tongue on teeth that _shouldn’t be that sharp_ and panting as he bleeds, the new self-inflicted wounds on his tongue paling in comparison to the rest of his freshly acquired scars.

Spines shook and hands, now free of gloves as they never should be, had dug deep into fur that was no longer right, no longer the blue he loved to admire because it denoted his royalty, and he was a good prince, a good son, a good-

Now, he is nothing.

He took a moment. Waited until his lungs no longer heaved, raised himself onto shaking legs and arms, and slowly began to crawl past his platform, one step at a time.

He wouldn’t die. He didn’t want to die. He wanted Father to hold him and tell him everything was alright. Wanted Mother back. If only he could have the family he wished for. 

He trips on his perilous journey across the room, despite being on all fours, over a gauntlet. One that he recognizes near instantaneously, its golden gleam seeming like a beacon of hope and familiarity through the haze of pain. It was Father’s! It was-

_Melted._

His gaze and breathing hitched and halted once more, spines flaring as he whimpered and noticed how the gold plating lost its form, dripping down and becoming one with the tile below in a manner akin to candle wax after its light had burned for far too long.

As he followed his father’s arm, trepidation in his gut, his eyes laid upon more and more molten metal and his nose finally began to register a horrible burning smell, the scent of seared flesh lingering in the air.

When Sonic finally looked up to his father’s face, all his eyes met were the empty sockets of a dead man’s skull.

All he could do was stare and shudder at what used to be Jules. All he could do was freeze, limbs heavy and eyes burning as he panted, the rhythm of his chest growing ever faster, sparks flying from between his fangs.

Choking, laying by his father’s corpse killed by the very thing he was so fascinated by, Sonic couldn’t even scream.

He didn’t have a voice left to do so.

The silence was deafening in those moments of grief. Nothing was right. Nothing was okay. 

He was not a good son.

What kind of son kills their own father, even while in pain? Even if it was because he-

The numbness had set in, adrenaline making his skin crawl as the only sound was the wind whistling through the destruction that he caused, all alone because of his own cruel mistake.

He knew it wasn’t just father. He could smell them. He couldn’t hear anyone else’s breaths. 

A sudden shout from a distant corridor finally reached his twitching ears, cleaving the silence and his frozen state in two as he realized something he learned when Mother had died.

_Those who kill royalty must pay the price._

And like a shot, wounds singing horrible melodies that went unnoticed by his panicked mind, Sonic ran and pushed away from the scene of his first crime as fast and as far as he could, blindly speeding towards his bedroom chambers.

He passed the threshold of what marked the beginning of the crumbling of a kingdom. And he never turned back.

Legs pumping, blood boiling, lungs heaving, the process of running, so oddly freeing, replaced all else. His feet pounded the ground. He passes the entrance to the banquet hall. The guard’s quarters. The ballroom. Passersby looked on in shock as a green blur sped by, the only detail showing that it wasn’t a figment of the imagination the scorched pawprints left behind.

One, two, one, two, steps fleet and faster than milliseconds, broken body crying out but adrenaline coursing through him, one, two, one-

His room! Yes, his room, that’s what he was looking for-

He barreled into the bedroom chambers, muscles burning and bones shaking, splintering the door as he crashed through and slammed directly into his bed, scrambling like a wild animal on all fours to the drawers that held his escape from the castle.

Shaking fingers laced with feather-light scars dug desperately into piles of clothes, memoirs that he wanted no part of, pieces of finery and jewelry left behind as he clawed until he finally found the heavy velvet bag that was nearly half as big as he was, only there in case of emergency.

He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t breathe. One moment of hesitation couldn’t be spared, he heard the clanking of armored boots and the shouting of guards as they trailed ever closer, shouts of alarm growing ever louder as the people finally realized that something was very, very _wrong._

With one last breath, Sonic had opened the bag, grasped one ring from within with a muffled sob, and threw it as hard as he possibly could while his body still felt the searing pain of whatever it was they had done to him. 

One last push. His only thought as the portal opened was to go far, far away from here.

Right as he saw the helms of knights, barely hiding their stares of shock and horror as they veered into the room and the flash of gilded blades, Sonic saw what was once his home for the last time, the only remnants of his presence the glowing particles of a recently closed ring portal and the dark marks of despairing tears trailing into nothingness.

He didn’t know if he’d ever forgive himself after he saw what he had caused.

But he didn’t have a choice to mull it over.

With unsteady steps on unfamiliar terrain, the smell of some alien kind of trees filling his senses, he finally collapsed onto the soft green of meadowgrass.

And everything went black.


	2. Decay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for themes of rot, desperation, general angst

How does a prince survive in the wild?

Sonic didn’t quite know. He’s still alive, sure, but what did that matter when nothing around him could be?

Uncovered paws tramped through grass, leaving rotting footprints in their wake. 

He didn’t understand why. He thought it might be because of whatever left him looking as green as the very thing that brought his pain. Maybe it was because he was being punished for what he left behind.

Everywhere he trod, the forest died around him.

He wished he could pick a flower or smell the grass without seeing it wither and die under his feeble touch, crumbling to dust between his tiny fingers.

It started as soon as he had fallen from the portal. He could remember falling into soft grass, the smell of pollen tickling his nose when he finally collapsed from his pain. Only when he woke up, all his eyes met was sickly brown-yellow and the scent of decay.

When he finally was able to stumble to his feet, pain oddly numbed and limbs working better than they likely should have, he saw a circle of death around his very feet, extending outwards with tendrils of rot. The grass completely dead, trees nearby beginning to wilt and wither themselves from his very presence.

  


He didn’t want any of this. 

He didn’t have a _choice. As usual._

A prince left alone in the woods, with only a bag of rings. He didn’t know as much about surviving as he likely should. He didn’t even know where he was, what the rules of this new planet were. He stumbled through the trees that towered like sentinels guarding their land above him, brushing his small fingers across one of them only for bark and pieces of wood to blacken and stick to his fingers, some of the gentle giants bowing under the weight of his own touch.

He continued on his path, aimless and dazed as he stumbled until he gazed out at a shack on the shore of a lake. Upon inspection, the lock on the door wasn’t closed and it seemed like a better option than being out in the open exposed to whatever this world may bring. He’d just sleep and then be on his way. 

Glancing upwards as the weathered wood and rusted metal of the shack- clearly old, but taken care of enough to be standing here today- he sighed, staring at the doorknob that seemed to be miles above his head. He opened the door, a feat which he _barely_ managed to accomplish- whatever lived here and built this was tall, taller than any mobian he’d met. He had to climb the door with shaking hands and feet by digging in with claws that weren’t supposed to be exposed to anyone.

It had swung open, bringing a deluge of smells with it that nearly overwhelmed him. Upon inspection of the shelves, he found them full of packages in all shapes and sizes in a rainbow of colors with lines of text upon them that he couldn’t decipher. The enticing scents that he could sense even through the containers led him to realize that this was a place for food storage of some sort.

Useful, most likely. But it wasn’t his to take. He’d find a comfortable spot, sleep, and be on his way.

Curling into a cubby that was empty, a small shelf lightly dusted with cobwebs but warm and oddly comfortable- he curled himself into a ball, welcoming the peaceful darkness of sleep that only the truly exhausted fell into.

When he woke up hours later, the sky a dark blue with only hints of twilight remaining and his stomach responding in turn with a resounding growl, it became obvious that he wouldn’t be on his way anywhere.

The food he had blearily noticed earlier suddenly seemed like the only thing that mattered.

He didn’t like the idea of stealing the food from the shack but he was already _hungry_ . He was _desperate._

He couldn’t eat any of the berries or plants or anything else he found whether they were poisonous or not. Not when his touch withered them before he could eat them.

With shaking fingers, he turned to the shelf next to him and slowly dragged a box out, small form barely able to pull the box two times his size from its snug position. With another heave, he fell backward with a small noise of surprise, the box falling next to him and scattering a few packs of its contents across the aged wood floor.

He cried just a bit as he snatched and opened a pack of some sort of pastries he had never seen before and shoved a few into his mouth at once, nearly choking as his stomach screamed for more than he was willing to ration for himself at the moment.

He could find a way to somehow pay them back later, right?

If he can even find something to give them. If he didn’t die of starvation after he ate their food and they came back too late. If they didn’t die from just touching him.

Days, weeks, months passed as he subsided on stolen food and lake water. Too afraid to move out of his bubble of misery as he watched the land wither around him, but afraid to stay and be discovered as well.

He refused to look at his reflection in the water each time he shambled to the lakeshore. He refused to focus on the decay around him. 

No matter how he tried, he couldn’t avoid glimpses. He couldn’t avoid looking at his scars, sprawled across his entire being like a twisted spiderweb. He couldn’t avoid looking at the fact that they all began at his heart, the twisted mass of scar tissue slowly healing but never to grow fur again. He couldn’t avoid thinking that the tendrils of what his father did to him looked eerily similar to the tendrils of death that slowly spread through the once-bustling forest around him from his touch, his very being.

He didn’t live. He barely survived. 

And the more he saw the stores deplete, the more he realized that he couldn’t say for long.

During midday not long later, his ears caught the sound of the doorknob turning on its own, worried chatter between what sounded like two people sneaking its way through the cracks of the boards that surrounded him and to his ears. His breath stopped and his heart pounded as he hid himself as much as he could in the shadows of the shack, ears pinned back as his watchful eyes saw the door begin to slowly creak open.

His time was up here.

Clutching his bag like a lifeline, heart beating into his throat, he sequestered himself into a corner near the door, wide eyes glassy as he froze and waited for the movement that signaled the door was open. 

Upon seeing the crack of sunlight before him, he made his hasty escape to the woods once more.

After his stay in storage and after he left the now brown and rotted land around the lake he had lived near for who knows how long, he noticed that the world around him no longer completely wilted at his touch. He could feel the grass without it crunching dry beneath his feet. Could breathe. He wouldn’t figure out exactly why this was so until months, perhaps years later.

That didn’t make the paths he left behind any less apparent. After finally venturing into a town full of beings that looked nothing like what he’d ever seen before- seriously, they were so tall but their eyes were so small, how did they work?- he began to listen to the words of this world’s denizens. 

And, he heard their secondhand reports and news and talking on strange static-boxes that showed moving pictures about what he had left in his tracks.

They called the destruction he left behind an unknown plant disease. A plague.

A _Scourge._

He had thought long and hard about that word long after he heard it through a resident’s window as he lingered. It haunted him even as he desperately clawed through dark forests to find somewhere he could take shelter for the nights that grew increasingly colder.

Scourge. What a fitting name for a failure of a prince. What a fitting name for a catalyst of very bad things. 

That day, Sonic, Prince of Moebius, had died in the eyes of the universe.

And Scourge, Prince of nothing in particular, was born.


End file.
